


Star Crossed

by JayWrites



Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF
Genre: F/M, Smut, sexy fun times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-19
Updated: 2014-10-19
Packaged: 2018-02-21 16:20:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2474615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JayWrites/pseuds/JayWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You meet Tom Hiddleston at an after party and he invites you back to his place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Star Crossed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JazzyTee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JazzyTee/gifts).



Your face hurts. That’s the only thought going through your mind as you suffer through another red carpet Q&A. You have been smiling broadly and giving polite answers to utterly stupid questions for the last hour. How many times have you said that you were excited to be here and that your dress is Alexander McQueen? How many times can you faux laugh at their terrible jokes? (You actually don’t mind them being so bad; it was the unoriginality that kills you—the same joke told in the same way by at least a dozen different people).

Red carpet functions were never your thing. You just want to make movies. You can do without the press junkets and the ceremonies; although you can’t deny that you love the pampering—hair, nails, and the pretty dresses—that precedes them.

“You look absolutely stunning,” the interviewer’s perky voice said. “Who are you wearing?”

She shoves the microphone in your face and you prepare yourself to give a performance that will make your on-screen acting appear wooden. You blush and giggle while spreading the bottom of your dress out before chirping out for the fifth (or is it sixth?) time tonight, “It’s Alexander McQueen!”

“Give us a 360 right quick!” Your fake smile broadens while you pray that you don’t trip and fall on your ass on national television as you spin around in the flowing garment. The interviewer thanks you and you throw a kiss to the camera (you add an adorable wink for extra affect) before walking away. Your smile quickly drops once you’re out of view and you massage your jaw.

You take a deep breath before re-plastering on a new smile. The entrance is just a few powerful strides from you but the red carpet is so long and filled with paparazzi and the like all vying for your attention. And you must give it to them; even though, all you really want to do is watch your film and critique your performance (you’re never satisfied, are you?).

The worst part, perhaps, is that you will have to do this again two and a half hours from now. You will have to gush about how much you loved this movie even though you hated it. You’re actually pretty pleased with your performance but, unfortunately, the director focused mostly on your breasts and ass for majority the time you were on screen (maybe you shouldn’t have called him a sexist pig that one day on set even if he was acting like one).

The only bright spot in this (too) long day is the after party. Even though the last two you went to were about as much fun as getting a root canal, you still look forward to them. Maybe tonight is the night when you finally meet your favorite celebrity. The fangirl in you wants to do back flips at the thought; the professional in you, however, maintains nearly perfect composure as you wade through the final round of interviews and photos before (finally) slinking back to your limo.

It takes you to the hotel you’re staying at where you quickly shower and change into more appropriate party attire. You choose a pair of ass hugging jeans (hey if you got it flaunt it, right?) and a low cut top that shows off your impressive décolletage. You carefully apply your make up—you opt for bold dark colors as opposed to the soft ones you wore earlier at the premiere—and give yourself one last once over before heading back down to your limo.

You feel like a diva as your bodyguards guide you past the long line of waiting partygoers to the main entrance of the building the after party’s housed in. It feels a bit excessive, doesn’t it? To have two burly men nearly carry you from the parking lot across the street. What did they think would happen to you in a hundred feet? But you suppose it’s best to be safe than sorry. After all, you don’t want a repeat of last year, do you? You shudder at the memory of a fan that stormed you at a party with a pair of scissors and begged for a lock of your hair. By the time security showed up you were panicked and had a bald spot on one side of your head. You frown as you gently run a couple of fingers over the spot. Thankfully your hair grew back but now the memory has you feeling anxious.

You approach the bar and order yourself a glass of scotch. “That’s not really a party drink, is it,” a deep, accented voice asks you from behind. You roll your eyes but don’t turn around.

 _Not this shit again_ , you think as you take a sip of the alcohol. Why is it that you are constantly bombarded by assholes at these things? In the last few years you’ve been hit on more times you can count on your fingers _and_ toes. And it’s always, _always_ the same type of guys: the older celebrity who wants to use you as his plaything to keep him feeling young; the up-and-comer who wants to use you as his career step; and, as usual, the asshole who’s just trying to nut for the night.

You slowly turn to tell Deep Voice to fuck off but you nearly gasp when you catch sight of him. _My god,_ you think, _he is gorgeous!_ He towers over you—even in the heels you’re wearing—and that suit he has on! It looks like it was sewn on him. You’ve been to enough premieres, award shows, and rep carpet events so you’ve seen a handsome man in a well tailored suit before but on him…well, you hesitate to use the word perfect but—damnit!—no other words fit. Your eyes trail down his frame before resting on his crotch and you swallow hard as you get a good outline of his dick. He looks…blessed.

You dart your eyes back up to his face—it’s extremely rude to stare at a man’s crotch, right? He’s quite handsome. He has a slight stubble and you’re not sure if he’s growing out his beard or if he just didn’t bother to shave this morning. His eyes are blue and piercing. He’s staring at you so intensely that you feel as if you must speak. You take another sip of your scotch before asking, “Excuse me?”

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be rude,” he gives you a smile which makes the corners of his eyes crease slightly, “but a scotch isn’t really a party drink. It’s more of a…‘thank God this day is finally over’ drink.”

“Is it now? And what are you? The…drink police?”

“Ehehehe.” You’ve never heard a laugh like that before and you find yourself weirdly drawn to it. “Well, I don’t want to brag but, uh, I did just get promoted to captain last week. Got a new badge and everything.”

In spite of yourself, you chuckle at his joke. “Oh my god…Either that was genuinely funny or I’m already drunk one glass in.”

“Hmm…I think it’s because I’m funny.”

“Hmm…,” you mock his tone, “I think it’s because of the scotch.”

He gives that laugh again and you smile at the sound of it. “Well, I guess,” he leans in and your breathing slows as you get a whiff of his cologne. He smells so…delicious. The scent makes you want to grab him and, in front of God and the security cameras, strip that suit off him. You clutch the glass in your hand so hard that you’re sure it will crack in your palm as if that will prevent you from straight clawing at him. “I suppose I must try harder to impress you.”

The comment calms you a little and you flirtatiously bite one corner of your bottom lip. “And why are you so intent on impressing me? I mean, I don’t even know your name.”

He licks his lips and smile before extending his hand. “Tom. Tom Hiddleston.”

You shake his hand. “Tom Hiddleston…” your face screws up as you try to remember where you heard that name before. “I'm sorry. I think I've heard of you but I'm not sure.”

“Well...I play Loki.” He says this in a humble tone but you can hear a faint hint of pride as well. You don’t hold it against him, though. Even the most genuinely humble actors have that one role that they absolutely love. Hell, you even have the poster from your last movie hanging in your apartment.

“Loki? From… _The Avengers_!” You’re not a big fan of action movies and, honestly, never understood the appeal. You’ve only manage to suffer through ten minutes of _The Avengers_ , at your cousin’s behest, before throwing up your hands and apologizing to her before leaving the room. “You? You played Loki?” You turn your head to one side in disbelief.

“I know. I’m hard to recognize without the hair and outfit.”

“Hmm…,” you say while giving him another once over. You know good and well that actors are capable of playing outside their type but this man… This man looks so far removed from even being _considered_ to play the villain. “Still not buying it. I mean, no offense but you look more like...a...Disney prince than an ego maniacal murderer.”

He gives you that laugh of his for the third time this evening and now you feel yourself nearly swoon at the adorableness of it. “I assure you I am quite an...impressive actor.”

“Oh really?” You twist up for face. “Okay. Prove it.”

“What?”

“Prove that you're Loki.”

“All right.” He adjusts his tie and clears his throat. He widens his stance a little and leans even closer to you and, again, your breathing slows. (You’re sure he doesn’t have to be this close to you but, good god, are you glad he is). His smile melds into a menacing glare as he slowly says, “Is this not your natural state? It’s the unspoken truth of humanity, that you crave… _subjugation_.” You feel your underwear dampen as he speaks. Your eyes drop to his mouth and your lips part lightly as he says the word “subjugation. “You were made to be ruled. In the end…you will always _kneel_.”

You shudder out an exhale as you continue to watch his mouth. You just _know_ that he can do wonders with it. You’re not even aware that you’re running the tips of your fingers across your collar bone until his eyes drop to them before saying, “I never did catch your name.”

Holy hell! What is your name? This man has you so totally fucked up that you temporarily forgot it. However, after a moment, you finally manage to stumble it out. He chuckles at how uncomfortable he’s making you and you’re not sure if you want to slap the ever loving shit out of him or kick yourself for being so goddamn transparent.

You’re usually much better at this. You’re a goddamn pro at shutting down the too eager men that seem to be constantly hitting on you. But this guy has you acting like teenage you that blushes and giggles and falls over herself whenever she gets attention from the boy she’s currently crushing on. _Calm down! You're a grown ass woman!_ You try to regain your composure by clearing your throat and stepping back a few inches—putting much needed space between you two.

You open your mouth to say something—anything!—to regain control of the conversation but he gently cuts you off. “That’s a beautiful name.”

“Th-thank you.”

“I was at your premiere tonight.”

“Oh? What did you think? And don’t give me that polite shit that celebs often give. Be real with me.”

He chuckles again. “I thought you were amazing…” You smile at the compliment. “Too bad your director hates you.” The smile drops from your face; although you’re impressed at how observant he is.

“You saw that, huh?” You signal for the bartender to refill your glass. You shoot it back before signaling for a third.

He asks the bartender for a whiskey sour before answering. “It was extremely obvious.”

“Well…I did call him a sexist pig on set. So I guess he decided to get me back by, ya know, _proving_ me right.”

“It’s such bullshit, isn’t it?” You nod in agreement before you take a sip of your drink and he his. You both continue talking for another hour or so before he works up the nerve to say, “Come back to my hotel room.” The way he says this…It’s almost as if the words themselves wrap around you and lures the “yes” out of you.

You’re barely in the back of his limo five minutes before he grabs the side of your face and kisses up your neck eliciting a moan. “Tom, wait…”

He drops his hand to the front of your shirt and delicately dances his fingertips across your cleavage. “Wait…,” you say again but you lean your head back and give him more access to your neck. Now he’s pulling the straps of your shirt off your shoulders and his mouth moves down and gently bites at the concave between your neck and shoulder causing you to let out a light gasp at the feeling.

Now his thumb skillfully rubs across the front of your exposed bra causing your nipple to harden at the touch. His other hand moves up your back and unhooks it. “No, wait. The driver…” Without hesitation, he cups one of your breasts in his hand and brings his mouth to it. He runs his tongue around your hard nipple before gently biting it. Your hand grasps the back of his head in response to the feeling of electricity the bit sends through you.

He frees your tit from his mouth with a wet “pop” before wiping some of the drool from the corner of his mouth with his thumb. He brings his hand back to the side of your face and catches your bottom lip between his own. He sucks on it and you squeeze your thighs together and gently rock your hips in a poor attempt to alleviate the throbbing between them. He lets your lip catch on his teeth, which sends a shiver up your spine, before letting go and looking at you. His eyes are filled with desire and you’re pretty sure yours are as well. You want him here and now.

You turn your attention to the driver and you both quickly lock eyes in the rearview mirror before his returns back to the road in front of him. No doubt, he had been watching you guys and your embarrassment almost trumps your arousal. That is, until Tom runs his hands up your thigh. If you had known you would be doing this, you would have worn a skirt so he could have better access to touch you.

He leans in to kiss you again but you pull away. “Wait. I’m no damn exhibitionist,” you finally say. (You’ve been trying to tell him this for the last few minutes).

He licks his lips before chuckling and turning to the driver. “Driver, partition.” The driver nods and gives you one last glimpse through the rearview mirror before the divider cuts off his view. Tom turns back to you and smiles. “Better?”

“Yes…” You briefly wonder how many women have been in the back of this limo with him but the feeling of his lips on yours again pushes the thought away. Now he returns to nibbling on your jaw line and your neck. “I really wish I wore a skirt.” He chuckles against your neck. “Holy shit…did I say that aloud?”

“Yes, you did, darling.” He brings a hand to the front of your jeans and unbuttons them. He playfully walks his fingers over band of your panties and leans into your ear and whispers, “I can’t wait to get you back to my room and taste you.” You grow wet from his deep voice vibrating in your ear. “I bet you taste simply… _marvelous_.” Your lips part and your breathing becomes slightly erratic. “Do you know what I’m going to do to you?”

You shake your head and reply with a breathy, “No.”

“I’m going to lay you on the floor and peel off every single piece of clothing that stands between me and that beautiful body. Then, I’m going to lick you from head to toe before I fuck you with my fingers and my tongue until you come so profusely that you forget everything except the pleasure that my tongue elicits.” Your mouth drops open completely. “Would you like that, love?” You nod while staring at his mouth.

“Then I’m going to fuck you…hard…and so thoroughly that you become a writhing, babbling mess beneath me. But first, spread your legs.” You do as you’re told and he immediately unzips your pants and shoves his hand into your underwear. He runs his hands down the lips of your pussy. “Ooh. You’re already soaking, love. And we have yet to begin.”

He licks his lips and you feel his fingers dance across your pussy. You all but beg him to insert those long fingers into you. And right when he inserts a digit between your folds, the limo comes to a hard jerking stop that nearly propels your body off the seat. “Goddammit, Javier,” Tom growls out before removing his finger. He brings it to his lips and sucks your flavor off it with a smile. Your breath hitches and you want to say “fuck it” and straddle and ride him right now. Instead, you try to maintain some semblance of composure as he helps you readjust your clothing.

The tension between you two only escalates in the elevator ride up to the twentieth floor. The ride is worsened by the constant stopping at random floors to either receive or drop off hotel residents in addition to Tom’s constant touching and teasing—every now and again he will rub your ass or, if the elevator is empty, fondle your breasts while whispering utter filth in your ear. You are about to burst by the time you finally make it to his floor.

With each step down the long corridor, you pray that he is not one of those guys that can never “put their money where their mouth is.” God help him if all that talk turns out to be pure bullshit. You’re too riled up now for a night of bad sex. “We’re here,” he’s says as he inserts his key card in the lock and opens the door.

“Finally!” You cover your mouth out of embarrassment. You silently curse yourself for, again, letting your eagerness show; yet he just laughs at the outburst before putting a hand on your lower back and guiding you into the room. You barely make it two feet inside before he closes the door behind you and presses you against it.

He kisses you hard on the mouth as his hands come down to your ass and he lifts you up. Your legs wrap around him as you jab your tongue into his mouth. Your tongues flick at and wrestle one another. You can taste the whiskey sour he had earlier. You pull away from each other and he carries you over to the couch. You giggle as he tosses you on it. You don’t hesitate to remove your shirt and bra. “Damn,” he says smiling at the image of your hard nipples. He removes his tie and suit jacket before undoing the top two buttons of his shirt. He removes his cuff links and places them in the unused clear ashtray on the side table before rolling up his sleeves to the elbow.

He drops to his knees before you and immediately works on undoing and removing your pants. He yanks the off (and you’re so grateful for it; you were burning up in them) and carelessly tosses them across the room. “Lie on the floor,” he commands and you obey letting out a gust of air at the feeling of the cold ground against your bare skin.

He slowly pulls off your panties and takes a whiff of your scent on them before shoving them in the pockets of his pants. You say nothing about this because you’re desperate for him to put his mouth on you. You wiggle your hips in anticipation as he lowers himself to you. He places your legs on his shoulders and you can practically feel his breath against the lips of your pussy. Your eyes close and your head falls back as he runs his tongue up your folds. You shudder as he runs a hand down you before separating your lips with his index and thumb and, once again, licking up your wetness.

“Mmm….delicious,” he says before returning his tongue inside you. He inserts and pumps two fingers into you—slowly at first but his speed steadily increases—while his tongue dances across your clit. Your back arches at the feeling.

“Oh god…Oh god…,” you whimper out before biting your lips as you bring a hand to the back of his neck. He alternates between licking and sucking on your clit while his fingers continue to furiously pump into you. You begin to grind your hips against his tongue and you can feel your impending orgasm. Your body jerks as you come around his fingers.

You watch as he pulls them out of you and sucks your juices off of them. And before you can come down off the high of your orgasm, he's back between your legs. This time his tongue is inside you; eagerly lapping at your juices while he enthusiastically rubs circles on your clit. It doesn’t take you long to come again. Immediately he begins sucking on your clit again while he eases three fingers into you. You don’t know how long he does this to you—alternating between using his tongue and his fingers—and you’ve lost count of how many orgasms you had; all you know is that you can take no more. “Please, Tom,” you whine, “I…I can’t…”

Mercifully, he stops. He pulls away from you and wipes your juices off his mouth. He gently places your legs back on the ground. You close your eyes and relax against the coolness of the floor. You can hear him quickly undressing. Sleep threatens to overtake you, and you are willing to let it, until you feel the pressure of Tom’s body on you. “Uh-uh, darling. We’re not through yet.”

You’re not sure if your body can take anymore tonight and you open your mouth to protest but he takes your words from you by kissing you. You can taste your bittersweetness on his tongue. He rubs the head of his cock down your slit and you shudder against his mouth. He sucks on your bottom lip as he slowly enters you. You gasp at the filling of his thick cock stretching you. One of your arms wraps around his neck; the other comes across his back as he continues to slowly stroke into you.

Soon his speed increases and his name falls from your lips along with a chorus of moans. At first, you wrap your legs around him and begin to move your hips in rhythm with his; but soon his thrusts become more frantic. He calls your name repeatedly as he fucks you. “Oh, god…You…feel so….fucking…good!” The mixture of his low timbre in your ear and the way he is perfectly hitting that spot within you threatens to bring on yet another orgasm.

“Tom! Tom! I’m gonna…” Your nails dig into his flesh and you claw down his back as your orgasm ripples through you. Yet, he’s still stroking into you. He grabs a leg and places it over his shoulder—this allows him to go deeper into you. You claw frantically at the ground as he continues to fuck you hard. He grabs you by the back of the neck; nearly curling your body. You wince at the pain before screaming out at the pleasure of him pumping into you.

“Look at me,” he barks. Your eyes flutter open and you only catch a glimpse of his blue eyes before yours rolls in the back of your head. He laughs at this. You would be so pissed if another wave of orgasms hadn’t hit you. He calls out a “fuck!” as you pulse and clench around his cock. Once again you fall back to the cool floor in utter exhaustion as he pulls out of you and strokes his hot come onto your stomach. He falls on the floor next to you and wipes a tear that hangs in the corner of your eye away with his thumb.

He pulls you closer to him and he gently kisses the side of your face. “Holy…Fuck…,” you mumble out between deep breaths.

“Yeah,” he says also trying to catch his breath.

“Thank you for not coming in me.”

He chuckles and says, “You’re welcome,” before rising and walking into another room. You hear a faucet turn on and off followed by the thudding of his feet against the hardwood. Next you feel a wet, warm cloth against your stomach. You look down and smile as he gently cleans his come off your stomach.

“Thank you for cleaning me up.”

He gives that laugh of his again before saying, “It’s _literally_ the least I can do. And sorry about coming on you without asking first. That was pretty shitty. I know most girls hate that.”

You wave your hand and rise up on your elbows. “Oh, no. I prefer you did that than coming in me or on my face. An ex did that to me once. Just shot it _right_ in my goddamn face!”

“Sounds like an asshole,” he says bawling up the towel and tossing it to the side. He extends his hand out to help you up.

You take it and rise off the floor with a grunt. “He was a major asshole. I called him everything but a child of God and stormed out of there. Left him with his dick in his hand and a stupid look on his face.”

He throws his head back in laughter and you can’t help but to join him. He gently pulls you to the bedroom. “You can stay here tonight.”

“Well…Aren’t you the sweetest one night stand?”

“I know! I am adorable.”

You both crawl into bed and you close your eyes the moment your head hits the soft silk pillows; but you don’t succumb to your fatigue just yet. Instead you look at him and say, “You’re a liar, Mr. Hiddleston.”

He turns to face you and furrows his brow in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“You said that you were gonna lick me from head to toe. I recall no licking, sir.”

He chuckles. “I did say that, didn’t I? Well if you’re up for another round I can…”

“Oh no,” you quickly say. “No more tonight, please.”

You both laugh again. “I tell you what. How about a rain check on that? I’ll be in town for the rest of this month and I can do all…,” he kisses your forehead, “the licking…,” he kisses your nose, “you want,” he places a final, passionate kiss on your lips. “What do you say?”

You giggle and nod your head (a little too) eagerly. “Good,” he says before wrapping an arm around you and pulling you close. “Now go to sleep. You wore me out.” You suck your teeth at the comment but say nothing. Instead you close your eyes and let the sound of his soft breathing lull you to sleep.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Yes this is another end note where I laugh at my inability to create a good title. Ahahahaha.


End file.
